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The British descended

The British descended
on the Transvaal and Orange Free State
from their island
on the other side of the sea
and in thousands
they came to ruin the land.

The British descended
on the Transvaal and Orange Free State
and from the sea they came
and an entire empire
send its soldiers to destroy,
to pillage and scorch the earth,
to rape, and imprison
the women and children
of the Afrikaner nation.

My great grandfathers rode on horseback to war,
with Christiaan De Wet, Cronje
and De La Rey

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poem by Gert Strydom
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Destroy, Destroy, Destroy

The battle of the beast.
A creature that only knows one thing.
Destroy, destroy, destroy.

It entered the world as nothing more then a mere boy.
Cold and abandoned.
The exiled one.
He knows no love.
He is what no one wants to become.
He lives off of lust and blood.
A pain felt hundred times worse then living on the brink of death.
All he does is fight.
Morning till night.
The battle of the beast.
A creature that only knows one thing.
Destroy, destroy, destroy.

Abused,
constantly confused.
Trust no one.

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poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Some Dream of War

Rising in the shadows beyond the sun
Morning leaves like a silent memory
Burning pyre of Odin’s dream
Sacred sword
Knights fight the plague
Flagellants
Kings of order
Pillage the coffers of Constantinople
Aqueducts bring wine bright with blood
Crimean queens of the Black sea
Ships with ghost sails
Dadaists of surreal chance
Run for the fall out shelters
Teutonic steel horses blitzkrieg

There you are amidst the lost
Languorous myth amidst Hellene roses
Ideals in form and structure
Grace spoiled in the art of war
Under the pyramids

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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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An End To The Secret Garden

A very important day some say.
But why limit it to one before the importance of it truly comes due?
A idolization of time itself.
Magnified and memorialized as if it's death is coming soon.
But how do you really know that?
A prediction that I neither heed too, or take for granted.
Why put the spin of fear and worry upon hypothesis not yet proven?
I just do what I always do.
Whether rain or shine.
Your pale imaginary foresight will not undermine my life or time.
If it is coming I accept it without any regret.
If not my plans still hold true to the future.
You say but isn't their things you want to do before you die?
A bucket list, is setting a limit that which I can do.
Goals to achieve, but what will you do when they're reached and their is nothing left to complete?
This is something I will not conceive.
A possibly exist that I have kissed.
It taste so sweet and one day we will meet.
In a garden of flowers, vegetables, and fruits.
I pick the wild strawberry that here will forever grow.

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poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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I Shall Keep Crying

O! Heedless Generals of the parading troops,
Overloaded with the warring martial contents,
I shall keep crying aloud, at the top of my voice,
Though my tongue is plucked out of the roots.

You are the blind dummies of the sightless kings,
Only you pillage, plunder the world to increase a row
Of brassy stars upon your thick broad shoulders,
Or to gather a medal worth a dime to embellish,
Your hollow heartless rattling cold-blooded chests.

You obey the master kings with out knowing,
To kill, kill and kill humanity: the fellow beings.
What aims are yours, what missions you struggle for?
Just for vain victories imparting pungent pleasures.
You have been blood-drunk since the period pre-historic,
You have been playing the game, the match of butchery,
You have been entertaining with the bloody sport,
To kill, kill and kill is your hobby, a painful pastime.

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poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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If I Was Captain

One day, one dusk, and then a new dawn,
Set sail for vast new shores.
Watch the afternoon sunset, son
Hear the broadside cannons roar.

All the way to the horizon boys,
Make haste to make port by sundown.
Take heed, forewarned, of who we are son,
We'll pillage and sack this town.

Dance around in the setting sun,
Laugh all day, sing all night.
Rum is a sailor's best friend, son
Drink till the new day is in sight.

See the foam froth at the starboard end,
Make anchor in the evening light.
Climb skywards to yonder crow's nest, son,
Prepare to plunder and plight.

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poem by Stuart McKenzie
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The Invective of Achilles

[Iliad, B. I. V. 149]

'Heigh me! brazen of front, thou glutton for plunder, how can one,
Servant here to thy mandates, heed thee among our Achaians,
Either the mission hie on or stoutly do fight with the foemen?
I, not hither I fared on account of the spear-armed Trojans,
Pledged to the combat; they unto me have in nowise a harm done;
Never have they, of a truth, come lifting my horses or oxen;
Never in deep-soiled Phthia, the nurser of heroes, my harvests
Ravaged, they; for between us is numbered full many a darksome
Mountain, ay, therewith too the stretch of the windy sea-waters.
O hugely shameless! thee did we follow to hearten thee, justice
Pluck from the Dardans for him, Menelaos, thee too, thou dog-eyed!
Whereof little thy thought is, nought whatever thou reckest.
Worse, it is thou whose threat 'tis to ravish my prize from me, portion
Won with much labour, the which my gift from the sons of Achaia.
Never, in sooth, have I known my prize equal thine when Achaians
Gave some flourishing populous Trojan town up to pillage.
Nay, sure, mine were the hands did most in the storm of the combat,
Yet when came peradventure share of the booty amongst us,

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poem by George Meredith
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True Origin of the Ewes

Some say that we come from old Tado
others say ancestral home is Notsie
but our traits point us to old Egypt
while our practices do depict Jews
in dorflefle, trekosi and homtodzo

does what we shroud now tritely aloft
secret dialects we speak in sacred shrines
do explain or not why it sounds Hebrew
on the lips of our stark illiterate priests
or a minority feared, envied this much?

if our open secrets we hide in silence
to explicate the prejudice we feel now
is our incurable idolatory from ages past
stoked the wrath of the Ancient of Days
to estrange us in pillage from the old fold?

what excuse then do we have as curators
to our perplexed progeny in strange lands

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poem by Dela Bobobee
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Enslaving Freedom Loving World To One Nation Whims

When Barack Obama is reelected will
American foreign policy still be violent...
destructive counter-productive invasion

wars sowing terrorist-recruiting hate?
Will manic desire to control Middle East oil...
to rule the world as modern empire-heirs

to Ancient Rome mean flexing more military muscle?
Remember Rome eventually made too many enemies...
enslaving freedom loving world to one nation whims.

Rome slaughtered millions over hundreds of years
in entertainment arena millions of slain people animals...
without mercy expansion policy rules with iron will.

Is twenty-first century America killing countless thousands
of innocents in distant foreign war invaded countries...
do military corporations rape pillage plunder with impunity?

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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To A Queen (In Answer To Alfred Lord Tennyson) (Pastiche)

Tempered, complicated – O you that bold
send armies from your office to roam the earth
spoiled by charms, power from birth
your deception has been told since the kings of old.

Victoria, - from your royal face,
from your lips to your brow
snobbishness did flow,
without grace, you treated my people base.

And should your weakness, be reported everywhere,
in gossip and jokes in your fallen empire that declines with time
then let this verse, this rhyme
tell of the worthlessness and how without care,

Then – your soldiers made mistakes,
and in a wild march to scorch the earth, women and children did fall
while you sat enthroned behind a palace-wall
while under trampling boots, canon fire the earth shakes –

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poem by Gert Strydom
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